


A Long Road Home

by Hiver_Noir, N0nexistent



Category: The Hitcher (1986)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, Gun Kink, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, PWP, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25723126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiver_Noir/pseuds/Hiver_Noir, https://archiveofourown.org/users/N0nexistent/pseuds/N0nexistent
Summary: Senseless porn.
Relationships: Jim Halsey/John Ryder
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	A Long Road Home

**Author's Note:**

> UNBETAED. Read at your own risk.

Through every forest above the trees  
Within my stomach scraped off my knees  
I drink the honey inside your hive  
You are the reason I stay alive

\- You ... Why are you doing this?

\- Because ... - the words are interrupted by a long pause, obviously designed to reflect thoughtfulness, but the man in the passengers seat only uses it to lean a little closer to the driver - he inhales the smell of shampoo from his dark hair – a sweet fruity scent, not what one would expect from a boy. - I can.

A short grin sparkles in the darkness, illuminated by a flash of lightning, and Jim flinches, barely holding back from staggering to the side. Having finished the phrase, the man opens his lips to release the tip of a wet tongue that outlines the curve of Jim’s ear. But that's not the main cause of his worries – he is more concerned about a large and heavy hand, pressed against his groin. And as if that is not enough, he also feels the hardness of a knife handle, clamped into his thigh.

At first it was an ordinary trip – long and boring, but he was delighted to drive by himself. It was his first sip of freedom, the first time he has left the city - and everything went so smoothly until he opened the door for him.

John Ryder. The man who was holding the knife to his crotch, examining his face with defiant calmness. 

Jim narrows his eyes briefly, but the very next moment his eyebrows fly up. He can't help but let out a pathetic, quiet sound - which he did not expect to hear from himself at all – as something hot and wet gingerly touches his ear; his fingers clench on the stirring wheel, already giving up to a distinct shiver that's starting to shake over his body. A grim guess makes him shudder as he stares ahead with his eyes open wide.

The car slightly wavers, and he briefly thinks about entering a sharp turn - maybe this will force the madman to let him go, although the strength of his grip calls the desired result into question. Gathering his will, Jim breathes out through his gritted teeth.

\- What are you ... Don't ... I'm not a one of that kind!..

Hearing the answer, Ryder wonders about what appears to be more amusing - the boy's stuttering words or his choked voice, but at that moment something else grabs his attention. Raising his eyes, Ryder sees a button burning with an ominous red light which the boy is glancing at every now and then - "door ajar." With a dry grin, Ryder throws a belt over his chest and buckles it.

\- Are you saying I am? Is that right, kid? Is that how you should talk to your elders? - His voice drops dangerously, and the grip below Jim’s waist becomes even firmer - a little more pressure and the touch of his hand would hurt; of course, Ryder is well aware of this fact. Nevertheless, now he feels something curious under his fingers - the formerly soft bulge is rapidly hardening, even in the dark he can clearly see how uneven patches of feverish blush flare up on the boy's pale face. The change does not particularly surprise him - he has seen this sort of reaction before. The boy, however, seems too young to be turned on by such things, but perhaps, this is the whole point. Either way, Ryder knows better than to miss an opportunity to tease him. 

\- You seem to like it quite a lot, don’t you? And I haven't even done anything yet. - He draws out the words lazily, studying the dark curls over Jim’s cheek. The boy seems to have swallowed a pole, stiffened in his seat and clung to the wheel as if it were a lifeline. - You'll like it even better if I do, trust me.

As if to confirm these words, he claps his teeth in proximity to Jim's ear – the latter shudders, and turns his head to look at the man - cautiously and slowly, like an old ball-joint doll.

\- I don’t … - He stumbles, losing himself in the murky shame, deeply entangled with fear. The realization that the madman he picked from the road has enough sense in him to buckle the seatbelt hits him hard under the ribs, but some part of his mind still hopes all of this is just a sick joke. Maybe the man just wants to scare and embarrass him enough to force him out of the car and steal it. Although, this thought seems so stupid ... A broad palm, digging into his tense groin, does not seem stupid in any way, and Jim feels his eyes getting wet, covering his vision with a thin veil of tears still holding up there for now. - W-what do you want?..

In response, Ryder throws a glance over his whole body - a voluminous jacket conceals Jim’s figure, but the hands, desperately clutching at the steering wheel, tell him everything he wants to know. The boy has beautiful hands - narrow wrists and thin fingers – and Ryder knows he could have broken them so easily in his grip. With this thought in mind, he lets go of the boy's groin and his palm falls on the pliable throat; a feverish tempo hammers into the pads of his fingers, and he strokes the slightly damp, warm skin with a curious indifference.

\- What do I want? If I were you, I'd think about what you could give me, boy. So … - He leans closer again, practically pressing his forehead against Jim’s temple, his next words barely above a whisper. - What can you give me?

Jim sighs hoarsely feeling a hand on his throat, he leans back under its alarming weight, as if trying to relax his back, strained from a long trip, only to find Ryder still impossibly close. Jim feels the man’ breath hit his face as his brain is processing the words. For a brief moment, he glances sideways again, immediately fixing his gaze back on the road - this turned out to be a bad idea ... Now the man is practically looming over him. A rough finger caresses his throat, making Jim even more nervous - he has almost no money with him to pay him off, as he should have received the payment only after delivering the car to the right place. Jim closes his eyes again briefly, dissolving in a swarm of futile thoughts - this man clearly won’t leave him alone that easy ... Despite the transparency of the situation, it is still too hard to believe he has met a real pervert.

\- What can I offer ... - He mumbles dumbly not quite knowing he said it out loud. It was some kind of madness. The wetness inside his eyes slowly fades a bit, while the initial fear mingles with resentment and anger. The red button is a mocking flicker somewhere in the darkness above, annoying him with an opportunity he can’t use.

\- Yes. - Ryder echoes him. - What can you offer me?

The last few weeks on the road were exceptionally uninspired, but the hint of defiance on Jim’s face tells him meeting the boy can bring a fresh streak into this routine, a sort of thrill he rarely seeked before. It’s only pity the boy himself won’t like it at all. The way how obediently Jim behaves despite his turmoil does not escape from Ryder’s attention - he already grabbed him by the balls, but the kid never uttered a word of protest. Moreover, what’s happening clearly pulls some hidden strings inside the boy, in addition to fear, which is deemed the only natural in this kind of situation. Ryder didn’t forget the warm bulge between the boy’s legs, and he is rather curious both about how far he can go before Jim snaps, and what other effect he would be able to achieve in the process. The man calmly strokes the soft throat under his palm, weighing his options, while the heat emanating from the shivering body pleasantly warms his chilled fingers. It is a promising start, at least - like world has turned, smiling back at him with a mouth full of teeth.

\- Let's do it this way. - Ryder starts talking again, deceptively indifferent, making the boy quiet and eager to catch what he says. - We will play a game. If you win, you can keep your head and everything else to yourself. And if you don't ...

He pauses meaningfully, putting a little force in his grip.

\- Of course, if you have any other suggestions, I'm ready to hear them out. - Ryder grins widely, but the smile immediately fades away, followed by an icy cold.

Feeling the grip on his neck tighten, Jim realizes everything is finally going to hell. As the panic grows within him in uneven, ragged waves, he suddenly notices something ahead – there are lights and movement, and hope flares up in his heart in an anxious outburst. He glances at the man, trying to maintain some semblance of calm.

\- W-what kind of game?.. - His voice is almost inaudible, like he's suddenly gone hoarse at some point; without even lowering his eyes, Jim can see perfectly how much his hands are shaking.

\- You will know when we’ll play it. Don't you enjoy surprises? - The man nods leisurely, intercepting his line of sight. He glances at the smoldering lights ahead. - Turn left at the crossroads and drive forward until the first turn to the right. – Ryder’s voice becomes low and threatening, like a clank of steel; he taps the boy's throat with his index finger. - And no tricks. You want to live long enough to know what the game is, right?

With these words, he lets go of Jim’s neck, slowly sliding his hand over the skin as if making sure the massage sinks in, and leans back into his seat.

Turning aside, Jim longingly watches the distant lights, slowly fading into the rainy night; the nagging thought of sending everything to hell and rushing forward melts under the cold glare on the blade of a knife, pressed close to his crotch merely minutes ago. In the end, maybe he would still have a chance to escape this unharmed by remaining complaint. Ryder's threats frighten him, but at the same time, he still does not fully believe them - would the pervert not have killed him already if he was going to do it anyway?

\- Okay ... - He follows the instructions, glancing at the man warily - Ryder seems completely relaxed, spaced out even, and Jim thinks it would be better if it all went on like this ... it would be better if he hadn't picked him up at all. The rain gradually thins out, subsiding, and Jim notices some shabby structure ahead of them.

\- Drive on. - Ryder anticipates a possible question and gives him a short nod of his head. - We’re going there. It's better to play games indoors, don't you think?

He grins slightly, seeing the boy gulp at his words.

\- Pull up to the entrance and brake.

Jim slows the car down then stops by a worn-out wall. It's still raining outside and Ryder winces a little at the thought of having to get out again - his clothes and hair are still wet, however, he knows soon he will have a chance to thoroughly warm up. When the car finally comes to a stop, he pulls out the ignition keys, hiding them in his pocket. For some reason, this gesture makes Jim flinch, and he suddenly stiffens - something that has previously only loomed darkly inside his thoughts, suddenly takes a clear form. He can’t drive away from the thought he has brought himself to a place where his mutilated corpse would be found later. Whatever Ryder says, it could still be a bluff ... Jim shakes his head as he opens the door from his side, putting one foot out, and freezes with dread, like a diver in front of unfamiliar waters. Having notice this, Ryder casually reaches out to shove Jim between the shoulders, easily pushing him out. He follows the boy, slowly getting out of the car - drenched with water, the cool night air fills his lungs, rare drops of rain come down on his face - he closes his eyes for a few moments, and then heads towards Jim, who has not even had time to straighten up and face him. Without saying a word, the man grabs him by the elbow and jerks the boy on his feet; the action rewards him with a thin, high-pitched whimper of surprise. The door slowly opens, nudged by a strong hand, and Jim finds himself inside before he has a chance to get wet. Standing behind him, Ryder fumbles for a switch on the wall and a dim source of light flickers above their heads, illuminating a bizarre heap of dust, tarpaulin, and metal - rusting car carcasses are hiding in shades, like prehistoric relics. They’re in a garage.

Jim squints under the lamp and almost stumbles getting another shove in the back. He immediately turns around - now he can properly see his captor. Perhaps the man owes this impression to his baggy coat, but he seems positively huge - a giant, spawned by another age. There’s something in his eyes, dangerously sparkling like electric current, and Jim stills in front of him, glaring at his face, so sharp and cold he has to take a few steps back. His hands get restless, grabbing at anything they could reach as he feels himself shrinking under this cold, heavy gaze.

Jim starts back as Ryder steps forward, keeping the same distance between them. The man grins with the corners of his lips, noticing how hard the boy trembles under the thick checkered fabric.

\- Are you cold? - He asks sympathetically. It's time to change the script a little, he doesn't want to scare Jim way too much ... at least not yet. - Now we will play our game. It won't be long. - He turns around, not paying attention to the fact that the boy remains behind him - Ryder knows he won’t dare to pull anything funny. He approaches a car with a wide hood, covered with a thick layer of tarpaulin, and he brushes it with his hand, shaking off the dust

\- Come here. - Ryder deliberately makes his voice smooth and steady - he knows how deceptively soothing it feels to the victims, and believes the boy will be no exception.

Jim licks his dry lips as he steps forward. Viscous fear fall into the bottom of his heart in heavy drops, especially when the man beckons him closer. He clenches his teeth, his gaze fixed at the robust figure ahead. Looking back to the door from a corner of his eye, he thinks of a key, hidden somewhere inside the depths of Ryder’s black coat. Awkwardly, he takes another step. When he opens his mouth, his words sound muffled, and for some reason Jim suddenly becomes afraid to break this frightening silence.

\- Do you want to ... hurt me? - For some reason he is unable to move further, this several steps worth of distance between him and Ryder turned out to be more than what he is able to overcome, and now his legs seem to have grown into the hard surface beneath them.

Ryder tilts his head at the question with an impenetrable expression plastered all over his face, but he still allows a grin to ripple its surface when Jim stops talking.

\- Jim. - He says quietly - it always works when he calls them by the name. - I can guarantee I’ll definitely hurt you if you don’t do what you’re told.

Having said this, Ryder reaches into his bosom and pulls out some object, glowing with a dull metallic sheen; as he stretches his arm forward, Jim spots a revolver – merely a child's toy in such a big hand. Noticing a short twitch of fear running down the boy's face, Ryder adds emphasizing each word.

\- Come. Here.

Gathering his strength, Jim forces himself to take another step. One, and one more. The sound of his own breathing, uneven and shallow, suddenly feels too noisy, and it only gets louder with each and every centimeter of space disappearing between them. The man barely smiles, but his eyes remain so cold they are difficult to look at. Once he reaches the destination, Jim stills, peering down.

Meanwhile, Ryder calmly measures him up and down - despite the tears welling up in eyes the boy still has enough courage not to burst into sobs of panic, and he is vaguely impressed by that. Tilting his head a little, the man examines Jim’s lowered face, curls of hair slightly flattened by the rain, bitten lips. Without a word, he stretches out his arms to grab the boy under the armpits and lifts him to sit on the hood. He hears a soft, shaky breath, but there is no protest. This boy quickly grasps the rules, and John thinks that perhaps this circumstance will allow him to live a little longer than the others.

\- Take off your belt and give it to me.

Even when Ryder steps back his handprints seem to remain on Jim's skin as a ghostly trail, and he fidgets as if trying to shake them off – there is a nagging notion this is not the only touch he would have to experience today, but he stubbornly drives the thought away. He brings his hands to his belt buckle, hastened by an expectant gaze, still stubbornly staring at the floor. Jim does not want to ask why he has to do this as he knows he may not like the answer ... Panic rolls over him, betrayed by the clumsy fingers, turned to stone by a curse of fear. He fumbles with the belt for a long time, until finally manages to extract a thin notch from the hole, for a second Jim hesitates before pulling it out. A dark silhouette looms in front of him, making him nervous, but he is able to complete the task nonetheless. When he reaches forward with a belt in his hand, he looks back at Ryder. From the long excitement, he begins to feel a little troubled.

Without even looking into his face, Ryder grabs his outstretched hand by the wrist - the boy twitches, but he does not pay any attention to it. Narrow bones fit so perfectly into his palm - for a few moments he simply studies this sensation, fingers pressed down onto the thread of pulse, accelerated by a rush of adrenalin. Finally, the man takes the belt. Capturing Jim's other wrist, he brings his hands together, tying them up - not too tight, but enough to make the boy unable to free himself. When he’s finished, Jim’s shoulders become even more weak and stiff, his whole body defeated and small. Without taking his eyes off him, Ryder pulls the revolver out.

\- Open your mouth.

Jim lets a ragged breath, staring at him in silent horror. This short order knocks him through with a shudder, fear overflowing his eyes.

\- Don't ... Please ... – A mere surmise of what the man might do to him now, drags him down like a stone, his own body suddenly feels too heavy - it sways a little to the side and Ryder puts his hand on Jim’s shoulder, holding him in place. Jim feels his eyes starting to burn again, but he doesn't think about it at all, searching for any hint of emotion in the impenetrable face of his captor. In response, Ryder gives him an eye roll, feigning impatience.

\- I told you we were going to play a little game. And you agreed, remember? - He pats the boy on the shoulder, bringing him to his senses. - You still have a chance to beat me, don't forget that.

He looks Jim in the face again - his gaze lingers over the pink lips. It’s such a charming view when they are quivering with tension. Ryder has to suppress the urge to smile at the thought.

\- Now do me a favor - open your mouth. - He adds calmly. - Otherwise, I'll be forced to help you with that myself.

Jim blinks dazedly. An imminent threat makes him come back to his senses. Fighting weakness that just rolled through him, he leans a little to the side, avoiding the touch. A chance ... He still has a chance. Thinking about his chances to beat a strong, armed man, he feels a single tear trickle down his cheek. The sensation seems to send him off, and Jim squeezes his eyes shut dropping his head in his chest. When he picks it up again, he does not dare to face Ryder’s stare, sliding his eyes over the wet coat, belt buckle, and, finally, the gun. At first, his lips purse involuntarily, obeying an instinct, but then he opens his mouth.

Ryder raises his hand to brush a lone tear that escaped Jim’s eye - the skin under his fingers so soft he wants to touch it again, and he notes he will definitely do so. Jim leans to the side from his touch, but does it somehow unconvincingly, and Ryder puts his hand on his neck, applying a gently pressure.

\- Don’t move. - Putting the pistol aside, he brings his other hand to Jim's face and places the tip of a finger on the edge of his lower teeth, forcing him to open his mouth wider. When the man begins to speak, his voice is low and even, like a teacher explaining the lesson to his students.

\- I'll tell you about the rules of the game. Do you see this gun? I’m going to put it in your mouth. I won't pull the trigger ... unless you force me to. The game will be like this: while the gun is in your mouth, you should not make a sound no matter what I’d do. And I will do various ... things, but none of them will harm you. However, if the slightest sound falls out of these pretty lips of yours, I’ll pull the trigger. Do you understand me? Answer.

As the man speaks, Jim's eyes grow wider and wider, his eyebrows furrowed. He looks up in disbelief. Ryder is so close Jim is able to smell him – the air around him tastes like tobacco smoke mixed with a bittersweet flavor ... coffee? He still does not manage to identify some other note, but something tells him he should not try to. Jim sniffs, his mind races to find an escape, only to finally realize he has absolutely no way out of this situation. He slightly nods.

\- I understand ... – After saying this, he closes his eyes in distress, as if not believing neither his own compliance nor the reality of what is happening to him now.

\- Excellent. - Ryder smiles, showing the teeth. He gently plunges the gun inside placing it on Jim’s wet tongue. Swaying it back and forth a little, he watches the face in front of him twist. Ryder come to a conclusion this look suits the boy – with his mouth open, eyes closed, and something hard and long on his tongue. He studies the picture for a few more minutes before his free hand rests on Jim's groin. His inappropriate arousal has long since subsided, but Ryder is confident that with the right amount of effort he will be able to bring it back to life.

A bitter metallic coldness creeps into Jim's tongue, followed by a dangerous weight. Although Ryder is still treating him with pretense care, the barrel moves mockingly inside his mouth. Jim tightens his eyelids, forcing himself not to move - the pervert is probably catching some sort of a gloomy high from watching him squirm - but another touch to his crotch still makes him flinch briefly and a soft thud of teeth hitting the barrel breaks the silence.

Meanwhile, Ryder is steadily undoing the buttons on Jim’s jeans, pulling the zipper down; leaving the lower part of the body alone for now, his fingers slip under the clothes, pressing against a warm, tense belly. Jim begs himself not to make a sound - he just shivers when Ryder’s hand crawls onto his bare skin, trying to breathe through his nostrils.

All this does not escape the man’s attention - the boy closes his eyes like a frightened child in a naive hope that if he does not see the monster, the monster won’t see him as well. However, Ryder sees him very, very clearly. He leans over to his face, so close he can feel the warmth radiating from the boy’s cheek, and speaks softly.

\- Don't frown like that, kid. It's a game. Relax and have fun.

At least, Ryder clearly intends to fully enjoy what is happening. A hand roams the smooth skin, so soft under the fingers, and the man imagines how easily it would burst open under the blade of a knife – edges moving aside like two cuts of wet velvet. Lost in these thoughts, he runs his palm over the nipple; he doesn’t need to see to knows it’s pink and delicate, like a tiny flower bud - and probably very sensitive. To test it, Ryder catches and twirls it gently between his callous fingers, staring Jim in the face.

Jim shudders again. He doesn't quite know what becomes the first sensation his mind is able to grasp – a warm breath that touches his cheek, or the touch it is accompanied with. As a warm, rough palm slowly moves along his torso, as if Ryder is studying his most vulnerable spots, Jim is struggling to erase that tense expression from his own features, fearing to anger the man. When Ryder begins toying with his nipple, Jim sighs convulsively and raises his tied hands to his chest, accidentally pushing the man’s palm closer. Upon realizing what he has just done, his eyes snap open and he blinks nervously - another mistake, but it would have been better if he hasn’t opened his eyes at all. The gun at his mouth looms and shines, a dull glow ahead drawing his eyes to focus, and Jim shuts them closed again in order to cut off the impassive face above.

To his own surprise, Ryder becomes more and more involved in his game. Originally serving as a prelude, a little foreplay before the main dish of the night – cutting the boy’s pretty face of his skull. In his mind, he weighs all available options and finds there are a great many, but somehow now he in not in the mood for another kill. For a reason he does not yet understand himself, he wants to extend the fun a bit longer. Applying a persistent torment towards the bud in his fingers, he thinks about just how much time has passed since he had touched someone like this - with an interest, savoring the sensation. Still pondering on this, he lets go off the nipple and presses a hand on Jim's chest, forcing him to lie down with his back on the windshield. Ryder immediately climbs onto the hood as well.

Sensing the change, Jim is forced to open his eyes again. He is already perceptibly shaken, teeth knocking against the hollow metal every now and then, as he stares warily at his tormentor. Ryder holds his gaze, finding the sight beneath him extremely promising - it seems like he could have completely covered this tight little body with his own. Tight ... The man chuckles slightly at the thought. Holding the gun to Jim’s mouth, he props an elbow near his head, hooking up the edge of the boy's jeans along with the elastic hem of his underwear with his other hand. Jim stares at him, dumbfounded, and Ryder licks his lips in a deliberately slow manner.

\- Don't forget - not a sound.

Jim can’t withstand such closeness, and deviates slightly to the side, as far as the length of the revolver barrel allows him to. But when the man begins to pull off his clothes, he almost loses it - Jim sucks the air through his nose, almost sobbing, and exhales loudly as if he has just run a marathon. He reaches down with his tied hands to cover himself from the sticky gaze, although he understands the futility of this endeavor. His eyes are welling up with a renewed fervor, and almost immediately there are tears - unbelievably hot and large - running down his cheeks, their salty taste adds to the weapon’s heavy load on his tongue.

\- Shhh ... - Ryder examines him with a serene look - soaked with liquid, the boys thick lashes appear even darker. - Save your tears, kid. I haven't done anything yet.

He moves the barrel slightly, forcing it to ride further down Jim’s throat – still, he immediately draws it back before the boy has the time to choke. Jim is struggling to cover himself and he finds it as amusing as it is pointless. His free hand travels to Jim’s stomach as his fingers slide, crawling onto the side until they reach the boy’s lower back. Jim only manages to sigh, desperately pushing his hands against the man’s chest. Goosebumps raise on his skin when he feels a cool touch of the rain-soaked clothes, soon followed by the heat radiating underneath it. The man’s whole body feels hard and heavy, as a block of stone with a pair of transparent gems for the eyes, empty and cold unlike everything else. Trying to push him away, Jim swallows the spit gathered under his tongue, and with his mouth open the sound is a little too ... wet. Looming heavily from above, Ryder firmly brings the boy closer, brushing his wet hair against his cheek as he buries his face in Jim’s neck. Dry lips find their way to the skin, and the teeth bite down without any warning. Jim flinches, feeling the burn, soften by a moist heat ... and whimpers softly, unable to withstand the sensations that rolled over him.

Ryder grins broadly, hiding his sneer behind the collar. Tearing himself away from the neck, he leans towards the dumbfounded face, breath blowing hot into Jim’s lips.

\- Got you. - He positions the gun between Jim’s lips so that now the muzzle rests against the roof of his mouth. Moving his hand a little, a thin trickle of saliva trailing down Jim’s chin catches his attention. - Looks like we have a problem, kid. You broke the rules. But it would be a pity to pull the trigger so soon, we’ve just started playing.

Ryder can feel his smirk growing wider and wider, turning into a toothy grin, but there’s no need to care about the effect it produces - the boy has nowhere to run to. Nowhere - he weighs this word on the tongue, enjoying the taste.

\- Should I forgive you this time? I can do it. If you’d ask me to ... very ... nicely.

Realizing what he has just done, Jim squeezes his eyes shut with all his might, involuntarily biting the steel with his teeth. What has he done ... Suddenly, Ryder repositions the gun, directing its muzzle higher, and Jim’s eyes fly open as he stares blankly ahead. He thinks it’s over, yet he can’t take his gaze off the icy orbs, too scared to even blink, unwilling to miss a single moment of his remaining life - but it looks like his tormentor is not done playing ... Upon hearing the promise of forgiveness, Jim quickly give a shallow nod for an answer, until he hears out the end. Judging by the tone of his voice and the look the man offers him, Jim would have to apologize in some very specific fashion - but he still does not want to die anyway. Not here, and not like that. Therefore, he slowly nods one more time, pausing, simultaneously awaiting and dreading the final verdict.

Peering in the face in front of him, Ryder clearly sees the panic splashing within Jim’s teary stare, a sight he grew so familiar with due to the numerous nameless faces. But for some reason, this time he is compelled to leave his usual route, dropped out of the hateful string of monotonous days, sewn together by terror - and he does not want to return there yet. With this thought, he brings the gun back to its original position and bends down to lick the clear trail of saliva from the boy’s trembling jaw; it has a bitter taste of gun grease, but Ryder doesn't mind it at all. He shakes the barrel slightly, drawing the boy's attention.

\- Do you feel how hard the gun is for you? Wrap your lips around it. Please it.

Jim holds his breath, completely unmoving, what he hears makes every hair on his head stand straight. He looks at the man plaintively – the damned tears obscure the edges of his vision, but he would be glad not to see this pair of eyes in front of him, but this goal is beyond his reach. As if Ryder could read his mind, the man’s lips touch him again, smearing the salty tears away this time, and Jim stills in obedience. When Ryder pulls away, the boy grips the heavy barrel with his teeth and exhales sharply. His trembling lips cover the metal, timidly wrapping it in a ring, but he doesn't know what to do next, can't bring himself to move neither back nor forth.

Ryder shakes his head in disappointment as he looks at these inept attempts.

\- Look at me. - He patiently waits for Jim blink the tears away – his gaze shines, covered with a glint of moisture, but he does not cry, not yet. A brave boy. Meeting his stare, Ryder brings a hand to his own mouth.

\- That’s how it should be done. - Opening his lips, he plunges two fingers inside, sliding them across the tongue, running its tip over their rough pads. He grasps them with his lips and moves back to release them, only to bend his head lower, fully taking the length. All this time, his eyes never leave Jim's face while the latter does not know what to do with himself, stunned by the view and being unable to look away. Their eyes locked together. He watches the show, amazed by how tightly the man's lips hold his blunt fingers, how his head sways back and forth, taking them in and out, how his cheeks move, providing the suction - and he does not want to repeat that at all. He wants to revert his eyes, but Ryder’s gaze floods him with a layer of icy water, not allowing to look away for a second. Jim’s so embarrassed the heat sticks to his cheeks in a fiery wave, creeping onto his neck. Distracted by this sight, he doesn’t notice how the tears stop tormenting his eyes.

With another movement, Ryder releases his fingers - now they are wet, glistening with saliva, and he knows how to use this to his advantage. Ryder smiles at the stunned boy - triumphantly and slow. Running his tongue over his fingers for the last time, he spits on them and lowers his hand, putting it between Jim’s thighs. Even before the boy has the time to react, he slips his knee in between them, his hand slowly sliding inside his open fly.

Jim feels himself blush even more as the unpleasant anticipation mingles with shame. He doesn't want this madman to touch him! He is so scared and uncomfortable, and suddenly there’s a painfully clear realization soon he may appear completely naked in front of Ryder’s fully clothed form. He shakes, whole body straining with tension as he looks desperately at the man. A metallic bitterness that lingers in his mouth becomes more distinct, and Jim frowns, petrified, desperately wishing to shrink in size.

Ryder faintly smiles at him with only the corners of his lips. Lightly pulling on the waist band of Jim’s boxers, he gets his soft cock out, gently wrapping his damp fingers around it. Giving it a squeeze at the very base, he starts moving his hand – measurably and strong, a perfect pace to get a reaction. All too soon, he manages to produce the desired effect, and Jim turns aside, too embarrassed, frightened, and confused to face him – even against his own will, his body responds to these ministrations. He frowns dejectedly, still looking away and sinking his head even lower.

\- I thought you didn't want to play my game. How nice to see I was wrong. - Ryder runs a finger along the length – its surface is smooth, silky to the touch. Jim’s so hot and vulnerable inside his hand, and Ryder knows it won't cost him anything to squeeze his fingers harder and hurt him - but somehow he doesn't. The kid turns away from him, causing the barrel to press into the corner of his mouth, stretching it a bit, and Ryder imagines how promising it would look if it was his finger instead ... or maybe something else.

\- Look at me. - The man’s voice is soft, but there’s steel, hidden under the velvety timbre.

Jim stubbornly stares at the wheel of some old greasy car, as dusty as the tarpaulin he's positioned on. His breathing has been shallow and jerky for quite a time, and for some reason he is afraid to take a proper breath; as if then Ryder’s scent would forever creep into his lungs, sweeping all the air out and suffocating him. Staring into the void with a glazed stare, Jim thinks this is not how he imagined this ... game. It seemed to him everything would happen in a quick and painful manner, but in the end he would finally get away. He thought to endure the experience, but the man clearly intends to take his time, which only frightens Jim even more - he feels like Ryder wants to get enough of him before doing something very, very bad. Jim does not understand how he even managed to get hard in such an environment, he is angry, at himself, at this maniac – as now he is sure that is exactly what Ryder is - but mostly at his own fate. Hearing another order, Jim is also in no hurry; he shifts eyes without turning his head, and stumbles upon an explicit picture between his thighs. Only then he does have the courage to face Ryder.

When their stares meet, Ryder smiles at him - softly, but at the same time there’s a clear smear of bloodlust behind his smile, so that Jim doesn't forget who he's dealing with, as if the gun in his mouth wasn't enough to remind him. Watching him closely, Ryder regrets the boy can’t see himself like he sees him now - big eyes shiny with tears, his cock erected and a gun in his mouth. He accelerates his pace, squeezing the shaft with more effort, and runs a thumb over the head - so far it is dry, and he knows that only will serve to make the sensation sharper. The boy behaved very well so far, which comes as a pleasant surprise – a thing Ryder doesn’t get to experience often, too bad it only strengthens his desire to probe at Jim’s limits. His stubborn resistance creates a seductive contrast to the sheer vulnerability of the flesh, exposed and needy – the boy fidgets, not yet fully able to understand he owes his uneven breathing not to panic alone.

Jim exhales loudly through his nose, closing his eyes. There is so much saliva in his mouth he has to swallow again, and as if in response to that, the man lifts himself up, sliding down the hood. He watches as the man changes his position - he sneaks like a predatory beast, aiming for an attack; as if confirming this indistinct image, Ryder licks his lips. After a dramatic pause, he leans over Jim's hips, and the boy tenses up in confusion, feeling weak and utterly open. His eyes turn glassy as he watches the man’s mouth cover his cock, sucking it in – his flesh is enveloped with wet, merciless heat, tightly embracing his shaft. Without further ado, Ryder begins to move, not allowing Jim a single moment to get used to his new circumstances.

Jim does not know what to do with himself, stunned by sensations he has never experienced before. He is literally dumbfounded - a nimble tongue draws circles around his cock’s head, surrounded by a tight ring of lips. Jim inhales sharply with the sensation, unconsciously holding his breath so to not make a sound - yet unable to resist the appeal. He looks down again, then glances somewhere to the side, too embarrassed by what he sees, finally, he closes his eyes, failing to withstand the cold gaze, drilling into his face.

His stomach is so tense the muscles begin to tremble, sending hard shivers into his legs. He has no idea what to expect from Ryder, what kind of thought may come to his head the very next moment, because no matter how hard he resists him, the man can do anything he wants. Ryder devours him with an obvious greed - Jim is still unwilling to succumb, forcing him to focus his attack on the most sensitive parts. The way the boy resists his onslaught both amuses him and evokes something akin to respect, sprinkled with excitement. It has been a very, very long time since Ryder has been so thrilled about something, and he is going to make the most of this experience. Judging by the way Jim's body reacts to his actions, Ryder concludes no one has ever touched him like this before. The man himself already feels a familiar warmth, gradually gathering in his abdomen as his underwear gets unusually tight all of a sudden. Ryder drags his tongue over the velvety crown, drawing a choked sound out of the boy, the next swirl is aimed at a narrow slit on its surface, slick and filled with precum, and the Jim shudders beneath him with his whole body. Emboldened by this success, Ryder immediately repeats the maneuver, trying to knock out a new reaction, to coerce a sound out of this throat.

Jim could have never anticipated the gluttony with which the man attacks him, and he struggles with himself helplessly, holding back a flood of sounds threatening to rush out from his throat. He bites on the heavy barrel, wondering how the windshield underneath him has not yet cracked; he no longer opens his eyes, hitching his breath, which only suffocates him further. At some point, Ryder does something with his tongue that makes him arch, colored circles dancing wildly under his eyelids – a shockwave surges through his hips, searing the nerves on the way. A second sensation instantly catches up with the first one, burning his resistance to dust. Overwhelmed and unable to stand it all, Jim moans softly, deafened by the intense pleasure. This lingering sound seems to vibrate inside his half-opened mouth, bouncing off the metal over his tongue.

Ryder might have chuckled again if his lips haven't been busy with a more fulfilling task. The boy sounds so exhausted, so utterly sweet Ryder can almost taste the flavor of his surrender, adding to a heady weight on his tongue - like caramel and salt, and he doesn’t wants to miss a single drop of the mix, absorbing it whole. He takes the cock even deeper before reluctantly pulling away from the boy, eyes flashing with a hint of regret. Raising his head, he lets the head slip out from his mouth and peers at the flushed face above, examining it without blinking. Moving over Jim in a one smooth motion, he looms over him.

\- You lost again. - Even to himself, his voice sounds like a rustle. - What should I do with you now?

He pulls out the barrel, moist and glistening with saliva, and runs it over Jim’s lips, smearing the viscous liquid and leaving a wet trail in his wake. The boy listens to the quiet rasp of his voice, evening his breathing, as the ringing tension gradually leaves his body. Hesitantly, Jim opens his eyes; he sees an impassive gaze, studying him like a bug on a needle. At least, he may close his tired lips now. The only words that are spinning inside his head in regard to the question asked are "let me go", but like damn it would happen. Confused and embarrassed, he has no choice but to wait what his fate will bring next. Peeking into his dark, wildly dilated pupils, Ryder concludes he has done a good job with the boy. Jim’s taste lingers on his lips, and with a bit of amusement Ryder notes he won’t mind savoring it once again. Meeting his studious gaze, Jim wearily wonders how in earth he could have aroused such an interest from someone like that. As if sensing his inner turmoil, the man smirks at him, urging Jim’s stare to slide down to rest on Ryder’s lips, hungry and eager. Jim blinks, recalling what he did with this month literally a minute ago - he tries hard to the chase the image away, but it got stuck inside his head.

\- You broke the rules of our game for the second time. Was my tongue so good it was worth your freedom? - Now Ryder’s expression is deadly serious. He is admiring the spots of blush on the boy's face - bright smears of blood, and he deliberately leads the gun up to caress the flushed cheek with the barrel. - How about another game? Ever heard about Russian roulette?

With these words, he presses the muzzle to his own temple and cocks the hammer. With his eyes fixed on the boy, Ryder presses the trigger. A dry click erupts through the air, but nothing happens, and the man pulls the trigger again, with the same effect. He does it one more final time before taking the gun away.

At first Jim freezes, wide eyed, flinching at the sound. He chokes on his breath at the second one, and the third makes him frown in disbelief. It can't be ... Son of a bitch ... Although when the revolver is placed to his temple, he still can’t help himself and recoils, sinking into the dusty surface. To his surprise, he only manages to blink when another click cuts the silence. The man, apparently, is having the time of his life watching him now, and Jim sees the corners of his lips twitch – if not for the dangerous proximity between them, he might have not noticed that. Anger and resentment rise in him at the same time as a dim, but still visible hope descends upon his fluttering heart - maybe the maniac would spare him in the end? At least, lets him leave in one piece and relatively unharmed. Jim observes him cautiously, convinced he will have a better chance at survival if he won’t do anything to irritate him.

But still, Ryder has lied to him ...

As if in response to the obvious indignation on his face, the corners of Ryder's lips arch slightly.

\- Did I say I would shoot you? I said I’ll pull the trigger and I did it. Anyway, I have no need to spend bullets on someone like you. - He gives Jim’s throat an eloquent stroke with a finger and casually shoves the gun back into his coat. Taking Jim's chin in his hand, Ryder leans down and plants a wide swipe of tongue on his lips - the scent of his own arousal hits him, but for some reason there’s no disgust. When Ryder pulls away, his face is extremely serious.

\- Games are over, boy. - He hisses in Jim's ear, drenching his skin with heat. His hand pulls away from the boy’s face and slowly wanders down, wrapping around his waist again - so narrow it seems he could break it by applying a little force. Fortunately for Jim, during this little game, Ryder almost imperceptibly came to the conclusion the boy was much more interesting to him alive. As if in contemplation, he lowers his mouth to the curve of Jim’s throat, running his tongue over the skin before digging his teeth in - hard enough to leave an impression. The boy's skin is delicate, spiced with a salty undertone of sweat and tears, offering a pleasant contrast to softness. The second bite is way more measured – teeth leaving a tender scrape, providing a much more needed distraction while a pair of large hands crawls under the plaid cloth. Ryder reeks with rain and greed, and Jim can only sigh softly in his embrace, until something else get’s his attention - besides the body, firmly pressing him into the hood, there’s a hard bulge under the wet fabric next to his thigh, and Jim swallows convulsively, shutting his eyelids closed when he realizes what exactly it is. Once again his fear clashes with shame at the thought of what else the man may have in store for him.

Of course, Ryder is aware of Jim closing his eyes every now and then – like the boy is trying to distance himself from what is happening, to push Ryder out of his perception - and the latter is determined to deprive him of such luxury, forfeiting him to forget about his presence. He wants to fill Jim, in every sense of the word - with his voice, his smell, the heat of his touch. To achieve this, the man sucks on Jim’s throat, kissing it greedily, which turns out to be much more cruel than the previous bites, and the boy hisses quietly, receiving a painful suction. This will surely leave a mark if he lives long enough - pondering on this, Ryder knows he will personally verify this would happen. The boy will definitely survive this night, and perhaps even a little longer, but now he does not need to know that at all. He reaches out to whisper inside Jim's ear.

\- I already made you feel good, kid. Now it's your turn. - He inserted his knee between Jim’s legs, hands moving over his body in a long, searching caress. - Where should I take you? Into your mouth? Or below the waist?

Ryder breathes out darkly, biting on the pink auricle close to his face.

\- Choose.

Jim jerks when he feels this change – Ryder’s composure seems to get more brittle with every minute of raking him with his hands, his body flushed against Jim’s. The first phrase fills Jim with anxious foreboding of something inevitable, but Ryder decides to surprise him once more, suddenly offering him a choice. Jim clutches his fists, thinking feverishly. The man has already lied to him once, what if he does that again ... He desperately wants to get at least some guarantees of survival and possible freedom, so he can’t hold himself from asking a question:

\- You ... will you let me go later?..

Ryder just laughs at the words – muffled and soft, albeit undoubtedly threatening. He digs his fingers into the tender flesh, his knee pressed over one of Jim’s thighs, jerking them apart. He is overwhelmed with an amazing sensation - he is in complete control of the situation, but at the same time he feels he is sliding somewhere, carried away by the attraction emanating from the body below, so warm and obedient he wants to caress it and sink his teeth into it at the same time.

\- You do not get it, kid. I'll take you anyway, whether you want it or not. - The neck under his mouth is already wet, painted with a pinkish constellation of bruises he cruelly kissed into Jim’s skin - and this sight grants him a strange satisfaction. He reaches down to kiss one of the marks again, with an almost reverent tenderness. His own cock throbs painfully in his pants, and Ryder brings the boy closer, allowing him to feel the firmness of his intentions. - I thought to give you a choice, but you don't seem to appreciate my kindness?

Jim doesn’t have time to recoil when Ryder begins to rip the rest of his clothes away. He shoves at his heavy chest with all of his strength - for some reason he believes he won’t be able to get up from that hood if the man get’s on top of him with his weight. Jim is so tired of being afraid, constantly balancing on the edge of a breakdown. He shudders as Ryder’s lips tease at his throat.

\- N-no! I will choose!.. - His voice is hoarse when he hastily blurts these words out in a fit of indistinct panic. Jim is afraid to meet those indifferent eyes, overlooking his pleas as if they were nothing, and yet he becomes the one to catch Ryder gaze with his own. And as soon as he does this, all his courage flies off.

\- But I've never done that ... Can I at least ... use my hands?.. Please?

\- Never? - Ryder can feel a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but he immediately suffocates it, raising his eyebrows in a mocking display of surprise. - Indeed? Well, then I have to fuck you both ways, I should teach you something at least, am I right?

With that, he lets the controlled expression slip of his face and grins, admiring the way a pair of brown eyes below open wider, dark and soft, like velvet. A strong hand pulls down the jeans, dangling over Jim’s narrow hips, and the next thing Jim feels is a grip on his buttock. He arches, and Ryder exploits this as well - one of his arms slips under Jims back to wound itself around his body, crushing their chests together so hard Jim exhales sharply into his captor’s face. All of a sudden, Ryder wants to give him a real kiss on the lips, hungry and deep, but he restrains himself. Instead, he sips the words into Jim’s gapping mouth.

\- I've already given you two options. Do you enjoy making me angry? Want me to be rough? – He cups the firm flesh in his hand possessively, fingers sliding into the crease and slowly working down to tease around the hole. Ryder grins, giving the startled boy a satisfied stare, and Jim winces, trying to figure out if the man is joking this time or not. He was just going to part his lips in protest when Ryder suddenly tightens his grip. For a split second, there’s a glaze over his icy eyes, and Jim doesn't want to ponder on what kind of thoughts are rushing through his head at the moment. He shrinks, wishing he could merge with the worn tarpaulin he’s displayed on, and hastily shakes his head, trying to convince the man he does not want to anger him at all.

\- No no! Then ... Up ... Into the mouth. – He stumbles under a mocking gaze. Now Jim clearly understands how terribly he is afraid of the pain, afraid of Ryder, yet still he can’t get rid of the nightmarish thought, telling him in a sense he is pleased with what the man is doing with him. Jim closes his eyes again, wishing he could defend himself. He doesn’t want to let Ryder inside his body, although he can vividly imagine how easily the man could demolish any sort of obstacles.

\- In the mouth, then? Are you sure? - Ryder draws out lazily. He moves his eyes over the boy’s teary face. - Aren't your lips tired of holding the barrel all this time?

The man trails off, as if reflecting on something.

\- Well, we’ll can try it. – At last, Ryder releases his waist and rises to his knees so that his hips are on the same level as the boy's face. He unfastens the belt, undoing the top button on his trousers. – You’re free to proceed.

Jim swallows nervously, staring at his groin. After approaching him this close, Ryder seems even bigger, truly immense. He tries to calm himself with the hope that soon everything would end, and pulls his hands up to rest on the broad hips. Trying to avoid looking up, where Ryder is hanging over him like an avalanche waiting to happen, he grabs at the fly with his fingers and pulls down. The zipper refuses to give in to him, and Jim awkwardly tugs a little harder until an old shame overwhelms him with a belated greeting. His hands tremble when he moves the fabric aside - he can already see the silhouette that emerges underneath it – reluctantly, he eases the waistband over its length to release the man’s jutting erection.

Jim hesitates, barely touching it with his fingers – the cock in front of him is large and thick, and he is unsure how to deal with that. As the bright flash of initial fear goes dim in his mind, Jim feels a fleeting relief, grateful that this colossus won’t end up in his ass, at least. Soft veins snake over the heavy length, and Jim timidly tries to bend lower, immediately realizing how unsuitable this position is. Grasping the cock with his hand, he clenches his fingers, surprised by how hard it already got. He makes a few hesitant movements, getting used to the form - like if it is possible! - or rather attempting to cajole Ryder, and slightly tugs at the base, exposing a dark, purple head. Jim pauses for a few more moments, pondering whether he should really open his lips to give himself a taste.

Ryder observes his actions, placid as ever. Jim looks so focused and fearful at the same time, like he is defusing a mine instead of preparing to give the first blowjob in his life. The boy stares at his cock, clearly taken aback by the view, like he has never seen anything like that. Having decided to give him a little nudge, the man runs his hands through the boy’s disheveled hair, enjoying the sensation under his palm, soft and smooth, like cotton and silk. He thoughtfully rubs Jim's temple with his thumb, and an unexpectedly obvious thought hits him softly - he won’t let go off this one. Ryder will keep the kid for himself.

\- Don’t fret, it doesn’t bite. - The boy moves his hand over his cock with such caution, as if it was a red-hot rod made of iron - his caress is so faint Ryder might not have felt it at all if his attention wasn’t focused entirely on the boy. When he addresses Jim, his voice is calm and even. - Do you remember what I showed you? Do it.

Jim obeys after a little more wavering. He covers the head with his lips, letting it slip into his mouth, cautiously gliding his tongue over the sensitive flesh. His fingers on the throbbing shaft twitch as he begins to move his hand along, squeezing the length firm enough to feel the pulsation of blood underneath it’s surface. Now he has no reason for uneven breathing, but Jim is still nervous. He tries to move his head in order to let him in deeper, but nothing comes out of it. Dispirited, he runs his tongue awkwardly under the head, accidently brushing it with his teeth, and Ryder heaves a short sigh - not that he expected anything more. He briefly ponders on what Jim is feeling right now: the heat and weight on his tongue, and how unusual the sensation must appear to him. The man gently pets the boy's hair, enjoying the warmth – both under his fingers and down below. In response, Jim tries his best to squeeze him tighter, but the touch still stays too timid to spark any significant pleasure.

\- Do you touch yourself like that? – There’s no anger within the words, Ryder just voices the thoughts that has come to his mind as he muses about the way Jim pleases himself when he is on his own. Is he acting as unsure? What is he thinking about at these moments? In any case, clearly not about something like that. Ryder places his hand on the boy's face and gently lifts his head, compelling him to look up. - Take me deeper, Jim.

Jim shivers upon hearing the order. It is obvious the man is dissatisfied with him, and he is trying to speed up his movements, while increasing the pressure he applies to his grip. Unable to lean on something to support his arm, he fearfully feels his shoulder getting numb from the tension. But he can’t allow these efforts to be insufficient, so he gives the head a few more licks before briefly releasing the weight from his mouth to take a shaky breath. Jim frowns and licks his lips, trying to recall what Ryder has showed him earlier, then, he reaches for it. The head breaches his mouth, sliding past the teeth, and at first it seems like he won’t be able to advance it further, but after some efforts he manages to take the cock deeper - a centimeter into his throat, and even further before he feels a need to retch ... it feels like his whole mouth is already clogged - but his hand on the remaining length suggests otherwise. Jim shuts his eyes wearily - the sight of an unfastened pair of pants and the belt hanging next to it would be haunting him for a long time. Not to mention some other things that occupy his attention at this very moment. He tries to bob his head back and forth more frequently, unable to take any more length inside, his fingers tightly clutching at the hot flesh. Jim is breathing heavily, tired of the effort, straining his jaw. His actions become more and more constrained - resting a hand on his neck, Ryder can feel his tension, and this does not surprise him in the least. Of course, the man could have taken matters into his own hands – like grabbing the boy by his wavy hair, pressing his fingers under Jim's jaw to make sure it is opened enough for him to break in. Take him in his own pace, penetrating all the way down into this delightful throat, forcing the boy to bury his nose in the blond curls at the bottom of his belly - but violence in this sense never held any appeal for him, and he is not going to give up his intention of getting a taste of the boy, slow and proper. He catches Jim’s tearful stare - so desperate, angry and embarrassed at the same time - and gently pushes him away. The boy suddenly clings to his hips - obviously afraid Ryder is doing this to plunge deeper, and the latter pats his cheek soothingly, unhooking the fingers locked on his cock. For another long moment the man studies Jim’s lips, shiny with saliva, and then his hand falls on Jim's shoulder, urging him to lie on the windshield. Sitting down next to Jim, Ryder stares at him for a minute, absently stroking his hair.

\- I'll show you how it's done. - He says finally. With these words, he goes lower, reassuming his previous position, and covers the boy's deflated cock with his mouth - this time he wastes no time, taking Jim deep and hard. He feels the blood instantly rushing in, engorging the flesh in his mouth, held tightly within the captivity of his throat. Jim sees it all in one smooth, slow motion. That tremendous moist heat engulfs him once again and all he manages to voice is a low whimper. His nerves are melting in liquid fire - Ryder pleasures him so skillfully, Jim is soon left panting for air. The man immediately sets an energetic and confident pace, rhythmically bobbing his head over the narrow hips, taking Jim in to the hilt. At some point Ryder grips his cock, aiding himself with a hand. The shaft in his fingers feels like a fresh, taut branch topped with a smooth rounded crown that easily slips up and down his throat, and he pays it a special attention, sucking on it like a lollipop. He greedily laps at the viscous liquid it’s leaking with, his flickering tongue teasing the sensitive slit again and again. A pleasant scent of a clean, living body emanates from the boy - soap and white musk, so unlike the bitter smell of road dust and sweat, and for a moment Ryder breaks away from him, leaving the cock to rest on his lips - the boy is outstretched in front of him, peering down in such a wanton daze, like he couldn't lift a finger to oppose him even if he wanted to, utterly crushed by his actions, but that's exactly what Ryder needs. Turning slightly aside, Ryder spits on his fingers, and takes Jim inside again. Proceeding to pleasure the boy, he reaches for his buttocks with a damp hand to apply his saliva over the opening, starting to gently massage it with his finger.

Jim is so amazed by this turn of events he feels like a fish, washed ashore and at the same time drowning in crystal clear water. Jim’s breathing is uneven and heavy, occasionally interrupted by a broken sob, coerced out of him by a particularly intense caress. Quiet, faint groans creep into the mix when Ryder suck on the head - Jim could not imagine how overwhelmingly pleasant something like this could be. He covers his chest with his hands, as if wishing to hide himself from this unbearable pleasure, tirelessly devouring him from the inside. The sheer ferocity with which Ryder does these incredible things to him is nothing but shocking, so the wet touch between his buttocks remains lost somewhere behind this fiery veil, but, nevertheless, it still lingers. Jim shudders convulsively crushed between the feverish, wet attack of an insatiable mouth and the realization he’d still get fucked, whether he wants it or not. But even this foul fear is unable to withstand the waves of sweet delight, conveniently dulling out everything else.

\- Mmm ... - Frenzied, he practically does not try to hold back the quiet, high-pitched moans – gradually, these sound become lower and lower, tainted with a tinge of doom, hovering over his head like a double-edged sword of a deadly bliss. Ryder never looses his vigor - not for a moment, feasting on the sounds that Jim make. He a bit impressed the boy hasn't come yet, given the methodical pressure he applies to his most sensitive spots. Jim moans so hopelessly, like Ryder is tormenting him, rather than seeking to give him pleasure, which becomes evident by the way his stomach tightens and stiffens. The muscles between his legs tense up in response to the delicate touch, and Ryder slows down, reducing the pace and intensity of his onslaught, as if taking some time to prepare for the final blow. Moments later, he screws the tips of his tongue into the narrow slit on the head of Jim’s, taking the boy by surprise. Using Jim’s confusion to his advantage, Ryder pushes the first phalanx in.

Bursts of desire roll over Jim rhythmically, his insides constricted into one ringing lump, ready to explode. He feels it will take only a little more for him to either come or pass out, but Ryder suddenly diminishes his assault – that is when Jim realizes he had his eyes closed for a rather long time by now. He shifts his legs, allowing the muscles to release some of the tension, and swallows with a completely drained throat. As if he was waiting for this precisely, Ryder suddenly brings down the same piercing move upon him, concentrating all his effort on one sweet spot.

\- Ah! - Jim doesn’t even get to feel the finger, penetrating him down below, as his whole body jolts under an overwhelming surge of pleasure. He comes, twisting with a loud sob, and splashes onto Ryder's devious tongue, enveloping it with salty, hot moisture. The man doesn't try to pull away, however. Instead he is gradually slowing down, taking in everything Jim can give him until the boy becomes quiet and still. Only then Ryder releases the deflated cock from his mouth - he can hardly contain the grin that threatens to split his face in two - Jim just had his full share of fun, and now it's his turn. However, he would be lying if he would said he didn’t enjoy this little escapade as well. Ryder spits the semen on his fingers and jerks the jeans off one of Jim’s legs - the cloth comes off together with a boot, which hits the floor with a light thud. While the boy is still striving to come to his senses, Ryder crawls a top of him, propping himself on his elbows.

\- Good boy. - He licks those pink lips teasingly with a tongue still tainted with pearly liquid.

Stricken by his climax, Jim is terribly reluctant to open his eyes and return to reality. But nevertheless he does so when his clothes gets pulled off, again... Dazed, he watches helplessly as Ryder sneaks up on him, and sees some ominous shade lurking behind his eyes. Jim is still drowning in a languor that makes his body heavy and slow - still, his lips tremble a little under the man’s tongue and warm breath when Jim gets to feels his own tart, salty taste. He looks timidly at the man, his bound arms folded on his chest.

\- It won't work ... - He says barely audibly. He adds, seeing Ryder curl an eyebrow inquiringly. - I can't do it ...

As he says that, Jim drops his gaze, unable to withstand the pressure that has befallen on him any longer.

Peering into the misty brown eyes, Ryder realizes Jim is still dealing with aftershocks of his orgasm. The boy is so relaxed in his arms; after a short reflection, he comes to the conclusion that “weakened” would prove to be a more fitting word. The shocks of this night exhausted him, and for one short moment a strange thought flares through the man's head like a bright sparkle - to leave him alone, let him rest. Ryder examines this strange idea with his inner gaze before putting it aside for further study. After all, he would have the time for this, but now there are more important matters he must attend to, the most urgent one still sways heavily between his legs. And yet he hesitates. The boy's submissiveness stirs something inside him, compelling him to run his hand over a tender cheek - flushed and hot. Another malicious comment is born and died in his tongue, never being voiced.

\- I will help you. Just don't get in the way. - Ryder knows well he must be careful - if Jim gets injured, he will have to deal with the consequences himself, in addition, he has already lost interest in hurting him. It will be much more interesting to watch the boy squirm with pleasure despite the circumstances and the common sense – just like it has happened a minute ago. He runs his fingers through Jim’s hair and leans lower, brushing his face against the delicate cheek he just stroked. Ryder whispers softly into his ear.

\- Give in to me. Stop resisting, you will only hurt yourself. - With these words, his stained hand nestles between the boy's legs, generously applying the moisture.

Jim briefly closes his eyes - he is pleased with the touch and eagerly absorbs its warmth in an attempt to detach his mind from everything else. Ryder clings to him like a huge cat, and Jim realizes he does not understand this man at all. But, apparently, Ryder isn’t going to kill him, at least, not yet. Jim has been through a lot today, and is already completely exhausted. Yet he clearly knows this weakness won’t do him any good. There is still something frightening ahead, something he definitely will not be unable to bear. The hitcher brought many contrasts into this night, and Jim does not know how long his tenderness will last, but at the same time, he knows better than to anger him. Silently, Jim listens to his whisper and narrows his eyes when wisps of soft hair brush against his face, allowing a single sigh slip out of his mouth. Ryder’s ministrations down there are terribly embarrassing - he could hardly have imagined that someday someone would touch him ... there.

\- Good. – Ryder’s whisper flows in Jim’s ear. The man is pleasantly surprised by the lack of protest. On one hand, the thought of agitating or intimidating Jim still seems amusing to him, but the boy should be relaxed enough for what he plans to do with him next. Now he is looming over Jim - the folds of his coat cover them both like a lowered curtain, providing intimacy and keeping them warm. He can’t see the boy's face, but feels how his chest heaves uneasily underneath. He knows how intensely Jim is focused on what he is doing, following every movement, and starts talking again to distract him.

\- Have you ever done this? Touched yourself there?

\- No, never. - Jim is seized by a strange numbness. Ryder's actions, his words seem to enhance this feeling, but at the same time they bring a certain dark shade to it. Only now he notices a soft ache on his neck where his abductor has ravished it. He can feel Ryder thumb pressing into him, hovering over his hole, rubbing and prodding, and he can't help but recall how the man has slowed down before beating him in their "game." Anticipating something like that to happen again, Jim is unable hold back a quiet remark, even fully realizing its meaninglessness.

\- I'm scared ...

\- As it should be. - Ryder's voice reminds him a touch of dry velvet as he speaks these words. The man whispers confidentially, his mouth moving terribly close to Jim's ear. - You don’t even know what I can do to you.

Ryder’s lips are slightly parted, ghosting over Jim's ear and temple until he buries his nose into his hair - despite the words he just uttered, he also knows better than to allow his prey catch a glimpse of his face and the cruel smile, playing across it now. His own desire a monotonous burn within his loins, sparkling like smoldering coals when the boy moves below him, urging him into action. He wants to dull Jim’s instincts, make him forget himself to the point where the boy would allow him to take what was his long before they have met. It’s eerie quiet now - the rain has almost stopped and all he hears is Jim’s breathing, rapid and shallow. The boy says nothing more, swallowing dryly, and Ryder speaks once again drawing the boy’s attention where he needs it to be.

\- But you still touch yourself, don't you? What are you thinking about at these moments? - He gently presses the pad of his finger over the tight opening, easing the tip inside, but no further. Drawing it back, the man moves it back and forth slightly, teasing the ring to open. He continues to leisurely repeat this action, alternating it with simple strokes. Looking up a little, he peeks at Jim’s bitten lip. Immediately, he’s tempted by a wish to do that himself - to bite on those pink lips, squeezing the delicate flesh between his teeth until it bursts open like an overripe cherry. Instead of fulfilling it, he leans down to drag languid kisses across his neck, licking a wet trail. - Think about it now.

Jim can’t find the words to answer the question, too occupied with a swarm of sensations that have been forced upon him. Now the man is so close Jim’s face is practically buried inside his coat, sodden with the smells of wet asphalt and cigarettes. Ryder is in no hurry, and Jim is vaguely grateful for that. Nonetheless, he does not know how adequate it would be to do what the man asked of him. In addition, Jim knows he would have hardly succeeded - Ryder captured all his attention, seized all his senses, like a viscous substance that clogs any route to escape, so he only shrugs, receiving a row of kisses. Meanwhile, his slippery finger slowly kneads the muscles between Jim’s buttocks, teasing the entrance as if looking for a loophole in it’s defense.

Ryder uses his teeth, biting into the flesh in his mouth, and runs his free hand under the baggy jacket, stroking and conquering what’s beneath. He feels his impatience growing with every minute, but does not give in to it – all things come to those who wait, just like the boy came to him. This delay will only make the moment of his triumph sweeter. Brushing a finger across the hole, he pulls away from Jim’s ear and moves back to his lips, parting them with his tongue and thrusting his tongue in to plunge deeper. At the same time, he pushes a slippery finger in with one smooth, unforgiving movement.

Jim opens his eyes in shock, choking on air and lacking any ideas of how he should behave in such a situation - the man’s lips, which turned out to be much softer than what they look, are locked on his own possessively, and he shudders when a familiar sensation shoots through his lower body. Nevertheless, he stiffens under the onslaught, awkward and perplexed. To his surprise, Ryder is treating him with unexpected gentleness, and he does not want to do anything that may force him to change his mind.

Ryder feels how the boy gasps underneath him, scorching his face with a jolt of hot air, and he twists his finger deeper, rotating it all around, stretching him open. He sways it in and out, gradually increasing the amplitude. Tearing himself away from Jim he briefly brushes his wet lips along his cheek – just to plant another kiss on his panting mouth. The harder Jim clenches around him, the more insistent his kiss becomes, slow and strong at the same time, keen on not allowing the boy to focus on his actions below. Jim keeps still, trying not to move at all - he just waits, humbly accepting everything Ryder is willing to give him, and the man smiles a little at the thought. The moment Jim’s body stops gripping him like a vice, the man presses the pad of a second finger to the entrance, probing and pushing in. Jim is already slightly out of breath by the time, and Ryder leaves his lips alone, listening to the quiet, heated sighs, absorbing them like a sponge. Gradually, he manages to insert another finger along with to the first one. Immersed within the pulsating heat, he fondles the smooth surface, slowly working it open, kneading the dense ring of muscle apart.

Although Ryder relentlessly distracts his attention from the dull ache between his thighs, Jim can still feel his old fear rising, like muddy water in a well. His breath becomes shallow, and he struggles to concentrate on the kiss and the firm grip on his waist, but fails every now and then. Ryder’s actions bring him a distinct discomfort; Jim is bewildered, listening to the way he wiggles his fingers inside him. A growing anxiety corrodes what’s remaining of his composure, and he nervously swallows, closing his eyes tightly and sinking back into the glass. His hands are fiddling with the folds of fabric that hang over him, betraying his concern. Jim feels warm, covered by the heavy black coat, but regardless of this, small shivers are constantly wandering through his body. The way Ryder twists and uncurls his fingers inside him, brings a vague sensation - it neither hurts, nor gives him pleasure, and Jim could have said it doesn't feels like anything at all, if not for the strange weakness within his limbs. He is struggling to relax, but instead gets more and more upset, finding himself unable to do so.

Ryder is drawing circles over with the pads of his fingers, sliding in and out as he moves further. Jim came not so long ago, and soon he manages to find a rounded tubercle under the slippery surface - his prostate. The man circles it, carefully measuring the pressure, and lifts his head to look at Jim's face - still as blushing and timid as few minutes ago, but now there is a distinct fear written upon his features.

\- Where were you going when you picked me up?

Hearing these words, Jim opens his eyes, his stare fixed somewhere at Ryder’s collar. The question makes him frown for a split second.

\- To California. San Diego. - He quickly looks up at Ryder, immediately lowering his gazes again. Even he is annoyed by this constrained timidity, but he cannot help himself.

\- Mm … - Ryder nods approvingly after hearing the answer. In fact, he doesn't care where the boy was going and why, he just wants him to think about his words, and not the way his massive fingers are moving inside his gut, opening him up for something bigger. Even he himself does not quite understand why he is willing to put so much effort in making things easier for the boy. Apart from his usual curiosity, he feels like he is carried away by some kind of dark current, and he simply allows it to carry him further, wherever it may bring them both. Ryder grins dryly, watching the color creep down Jim’s neck.

\- What were you going to do in San Diego?

Both fingers are already moving quite freely, and he pushes them apart like scissors. The even warmth radiating from his massive body lulls Jim’s senses, allowing him to calm down a little - or so he tries to convince himself. When he answers the question, his voice is low and somehow hoarse, so he awkwardly clears his throat.

\- I just drove the car ... The owner lives there. 

Some part of Jim understands why the man asks him all of this, but he still clings to the conversation, which seems to be the most adequate part of the night and at the same time does not fit into it at all. Ryder's face still looms over him, and Jim feels he can no longer meet his impassive eyes, too embarrassed by everything that happened tonight. His post-orgasmic haze slowly dissolves, and the stupefying dismay hits him again, making his heart beat faster than it needs to. The blush on his cheeks fades a little, giving way to pallor, and he frowns when Ryder presses on something inside as he unravels the muscles, like a pearl diver opening a tightly closed shell.

Looking at him, Ryder begins to rub the prostate with more persistence, gently tracing its edges with his fingers. He tilts his head, staring at the glistening eyes beneath the trembling lashes, thick and dark. He wants to say Jim should not have taken any hitchers, driving the car on his own, but the boy, obviously, has already learned his lesson, and therefore he says something different.

\- Young boys like you need to be careful on the road. - With these words, he pulls his fingers out and drives them inside, working them deeply. With every push, he passes over the sensitive gland, stroking it in an inevitably motion. Jim shudders shallowly when Ryder hits something inside him, again and again. He still can’t make out what this feeling is, but somehow it lessens the burning sting and the uncomfortable fullness. He looks up, falling into a calm, studying stare, not unlike the one of a scientist watching his experiment unravel, and Jim hold this gaze timidly, pursing his lips. It is so strange for him to hear such an advice from the one who forced him into this situation, and Jim sniffs in embarrassment, blinking quickly. A dull feeling that floods his legs with lead flares up in the pit of his stomach, drawn out by a strong hand. Jim’s legs jolt, urging him higher against the glass and over the arm that hugs his waist, the motion makes him jerk Ryder closer - but Jim understands this only when his eyes fall on his hands, clutching at the man’s clothes, but for some reason he does not release his fingers, peering into the collar of a blue shirt, buried under the coat.

Now Ryder applies a little more pressure, palpating the smooth surface under his fingers. The boy pulls him towards himself, and he readily succumbs - now their faces are very close to each other, and he presses on the tubercle more persistently, feeling it swell, blossoming under his fingers like a flower bud.

\- How does it feel when I touch you here? - With a hint of regret, Ryder lets go of Jim’s lower back, and brings his hand to rest on his thigh, spreading it further. Jim's next sigh reminds him a low, smothered moan. Every touch now vividly disturbs some sensitive part of him, striking sparks over his lower body, and somehow it seems to Jim so ... obscene.

\- I ... - He arches a little as the sensation pierces back into him, and pauses for a while, searching for the right word. - This is unusual ...

Jim flushes, thinking about whether it was worth it to admit it was also pleasant, but during the next movement, Ryder practically takes his fingers out of him, and on the way back there are three of them resting against his flesh. The man gently presses on the entrance, pushing them inside, and Jim stumbles in mid-sentence.

\- Ah ... ah ... - He squeezes his eyes shut, moaning briefly through gritted teeth - the former feeling of fullness to which the hitcher has been forcing him to get used to becomes increasingly difficult to bear, and now it is nearly impossible for him to endure it. Jim exhales into the face above, knuckles white with tension. He feels his eyelashes suddenly getting wet and throws his head back without realizing he has lifted it as he was taking in more.

It seems that Ryder's tricks, which have been quite effective so far, now have exhausted their usefulness - three fingers appear way too much. So quiet and timid until this moment, Jim groans wearily, and the man feels how the sound resonates within his chest in its way to freedom. Ryder stops, having his fingers moved in to the second knuckle, as he measures the strain within the flesh that encircles him. He clearly knows it is would take only one move for it to tear, bleeding, which would allow him an easily entrance - and yet, he is not going to do that. Ryder pats Jim's thigh with his free hand.

\- Don't tense up. Relax your stomach - His advice sounds casual, as if he is talking about something mundane. A large palm slides higher, stroking the side of Jim’s body and his abs. Ryder hesitates for a few more moments before speaking to him again, but now his voice is a little softer.

\- When it's over, I'll take you to a motel. You will take a shower. You want it, don’t you? - His hand finally climbs up, resting on the boy’s cheek, thumb gently fondling the skin.

Jim could have snapped back, had he the courage, but something seems to constrict his chest. He tries to take a deep breath - but instead only manages to let out a shallow, staccato sigh.

\- Ah ... – His jaw begins to ache from the pressure - he clenched his teeth too hard, and Jim forces himself to relax his contracted muscles a little. Having heard the promise, Jim opens his eyes slowly, as if it were an overwhelming task for him, to peer suspiciously at the man. A motel ... What motel ... He promised to let him go ...

\- W-what ... 

But motels have showers and soft beds ... He stares into the icy pupils, imagining how he would try to sit behind the wheel after all of this, and blinks, realizing it’s unlikely to happen. He doesn’t have enough strength to resist - neither Ryder, nor the shower he promised ... He nods shortly, receiving another caress of a rough palm.

Ryder smiles with the corners of his lips as he watches the rich mixture of emotions swirl across the boy's face. The shower most likely turned out to be an exaggeration - the boy would probably pass out as soon as he sees the bed, and he ... He will be there at that time. Running his fingers over Jim's face, he becomes more and more convinced he does not want to let him go so soon - such a naive and obedient boy.

\- And then there will be a warm bed ... - Now he speaks to him quietly, as if calming a frightened child. - For my boy ... - Taking advantage of Jim's confusion, he swings his hand lightly, pushing his fingers further, and stops again as the flesh protests the invasion. - For my brave, obedient boy.

Something dark appears in his tone and eyes as he speaks this phrase - Ryder himself spots it floating up among the smooth surface of his mundane words, cutting through them like a shark's fin, but this only fuels his determination to be patient. He wants him so badly. He wants to leave a mark on this boy, much deeper than the impression of teeth or a scar left by a knife, so that this fear and pain and pleasure will be forever imprinted inside Jim's heart.

Obviously Jim is picking up on the change - he suddenly wants to get as far away from this man as possible, but at the same time Ryder’s statement appears to him as dark as it is playful. One could say - intriguing, if not for the dusty environment, the maniac, and the bursting pain in his ass. Blunt fingers move in, and Jim cautiously watches Ryder’s pupils slowly dilate – the cold blues of his eyes, previously almost transparent, like water, take on the darker color of faded flowers. Jim does not take his gaze off Ryder any more, realizing he got way too relaxed inside his warm embrace and the velvety rasp of his voice, casually allowed himself to melt under his hands. A wet veil of tears reappear in his eyes, blurring his surroundings, but the attentive face in front of him stays incredibly clear. A lone tear slowly slides down Jim's cheek, right towards the warm caress. Ryder’s gaze falls on him like a weighty load, in addition to the warm heavy body.

Although the boy shrinks and cowers after hearing his words, Ryder thinks his little revelation was worth being voiced out, as it brings them closer. He gently swipes away the runaway tear with his hand - and it feels warm, bearing a trace of the same heat that envelops his fingers. He leans over to plant a light kiss on the corner of Jim's eye, allowing his tongue to sneak out for a taste. Tears, sperm, saliva - he gradually absorbs it all, making the boy an integral part of himself, but this is just the beginning. He knows the main course is yet to come.

\- Let me in, kid. - Ryder's hand slides down to lie in the hollow under Jim’s lip, slightly opening his mouth, and he immediately covers it with his own. This time he takes him deeply, imperiously, deliberately knocking out the boy's breath, forcing him to forget, greedily licking at every part. He introduces his fingers further, slowly penetrating the hot depth. Once there, he begins to stroke the same spot in circles, not stopping for a second.

Jim does not have the time to even take a breath when Ryder pounces on him, shoving his fingers in to the hilt - Jim can feel the rest of his palm pressed against his buttock. A heavy, hoarse exhalation is his only contribution to the kiss; Ryder clings to his mouth in a truly insatiably manner, like a thirsty animal lapping on an icy stream, and Jim is lost within and below him. He groans into his hot, wet mouth, lost and startled - previously vague, barely perceptible waves are converted into a hot, directed pulse, and he almost drowned under the onslaught. His silent, helpless sobs breaks through their kiss like ripples. In the middle of this attack, Jim is amazed to feel his cock is starting to harden again, and how fast it happens! Only now does he feel a chill on his face, brought on him by the wet trails, leading to his ears - he closed his eyes so tightly the tears got pushed out of them ...

Moving over from Jim’s gaping mouth, Ryder proceeds to thrust into him, as he did before - he has put in a lot of effort to bypass Jim’s body resistance, and is not going to rush things now. Although this time, at the end of each push Jim get’s to feel that sweet, profound something. The sting has not gone anywhere, and his whole body is over flown with this mixture of both, torn between the two opposites and unable to connect them into a whole.

\- Shh. - Ryder pets his hair, brushing loose strands away from his face. He allows himself to show a bit of condescendence towards the boy - Jim is young, scared and tired, but it only makes it easier to coerce him into submission, make him melt in his hands, possess him. He makes several circular motions with his hand, stretching the entrance some more before finally extracting his fingers.

At last, Jim can feel the merciless rods leaving his tired body. His throat tightens when he sees Ryder lift a hand to his face to spit on it. He understands what is about to happen, but for some reason the full awareness comes only when a slick, large head is pressed to his disturbed entrance. Jim looks away awkwardly, but Ryder immediately brings his stare back to face him, gently touching his cheek. Without taking his eyes off the boy, the man lubricates himself, distributing the liquid. He thinks about teasing Jim a little longer, but after a second consideration decides it will only serve to increase his fright, which won’t do neither of them any good. He unbuttons his shirt, pulling the collar aside, after having done that, he cups the back of Jim’s head with his palm.

\- I’m going to do something bad to you. – The whisper turns out a little lower and much more threatening than he originally intended, and, as if wanting to smooth out the effect, Ryder leans forward to give the boy a peck on the tip of his nose – Jim’s blinks in a daze in response to the gesture, and at this moment Ryder smoothly pushes forward, fixing his hips in a firm grip. He is met with a taut resistance, but still manages to overcome it as the slippery flesh slides inward with a wet sound. The damp heat immediately squeezes him from all sides, unwilling to release, and Jim whimpers mournfully, completely losing the control over his breath. There’s something massive and hot pushing inside his gut - the thick head slips into him in one slow motion, inevitably filling him to the brim. Now the man is hovering over him, and Jim suddenly feels lost, desperately clutching the cloth in his hands as if trying to hold on something. He groans tightly when a new stream of tears floods his eyes, heating his face as they roll down his temples, collecting is pools near his nose. He mentally begs the man not to move, being unable to utter anything aloud.

Despite his preparation, the entrance to the boy’s body seems incredibly narrow - hot walls clamp around him so hard Ryder thinks he won’t be able to leave his body at all – or not without hurting them both, at least. He stills, relishing in how tight he is being held. A several conflicting urges are fighting inside his mind: he wants to either plunge deeper or slip out of this delightful heat in order to push in again, breaching the pulsating muscles beneath. He was aroused for quite a time by now, and the strain within the lower part his body already seems painful. Nevertheless, a high moan escapes the boy's lips, and somehow it stops him, causing a strange feelings to rise in his chest - he simultaneously craves and is unwilling to hear this sound again. Jim's eyes are instantly filled with tears, as if someone turned on a water tap on his face, and it becomes a first occasion in a very, very long time, when Ryder experiences something similar to confusion. He studies Jim’s features for a few moments, until finally making a decision. There is a sharp click, and a narrow blade sparkles in his broad palm. In two short movements, Ryder cuts the belt that binds the boy's hands together, and then puts it back into his pocket. One of his hands still rests on the back of Jim’s head, fingers loosely tangled in the dark hair, and he lifts the boy’s neck and shoulders up, bringing him closer.

\- What do you feel? - He asks quietly.

Jim sobs upon hearing the quiet question. He is finally able to breathe, and he does so often his head starts spinning. Ryder's cock throbs inside him, stretching him apart, and Jim is crushed with such a simple, yet heavy knowledge this is only the beginning, and every part of is this ... huge. He lets out a shaky sigh, like he is strangled by something, trying to spread his legs wider apart to reduce the tension, but his limbs fail to obey him, seized by a violent tremble. The scraps of his belt roll to the side, and his hands flop on the tarpaulin. The folds of Ryder’s wet coat are hanging over them, and Jim immediately grabs what he can get into his fists.

\- It hurts ... Hurts ... - His speech reminds him of a feverish delirium, but he does not pay any attention to it, gasping and choking with tears. - I can't do that ... It's too ...

He shakes his head, shedding tears, thinks the man is about to break him by pushing deeper, but Ryder just stares at him from under his light eyelashes, slightly tilting his head, calm and unperturbed.

\- Jim. - Ryder calls him softly. His fingers gently scrape the scalp underneath the hair on the back of his head. – Hey, kid.

He knows very little about this boy, but for some reason the desire to keep him unharmed has already crept into his mind, turning into his main priority, and he heads towards his goal with the same cold determination as he does everything else. Ryder moves his hand under Jim’s back right between his shoulder blades as he pulls the boy up and towards himself. He leans lower to press their chests against each other, their faces close, and plants a delicate kiss on the trembling lips, contorted by weeping. When he starts talking again, his voice is so low it’s almost inaudible.

\- Don't hold back. Cry it out, you will feel better. - Ryder lips pick up a few large, salty drops from the boy's face, ignoring the new ones already rolling out of his eyes to replace them. Crawling his hand under Jim’s jacket, the man patiently strokes circular patterns over his back. - I'm not doing anything, see?

Jim still breathes heavily under the weight of his torment, choking on these impulses, and Ryder speaks a little louder, deliberately making his voice soft and more insinuating, his next words almost a whisper, sing-song and breathy.

\- I won't harm you.

Jim weakly shakes his head, desperate to be distracted by that voice, still drowning in painful sensations. He whimpers in exhaustion as he feels a soft kiss on his lips. The man pulls him closer, and Jim holds onto his coat, moving his trembling hands to the shoulders, clinging to the rough fabric. He is so scared he is about to tear, he cannot stop thinking about it, sobbing abruptly every now and then, lost in the feeling of wet. Sizzling heat continuously rolling down his face, so hot it seems it can burn through his skin. Ryder soothes him with a quite, odd whisper, but Jim hears everything, unpleasantly shocked by the sticky hysteria that crushed his composure to pieces. When Ryder says he is not going to cause any harm, something inside him finally breaks down. Jim lifts his head, face buried into the folds of his coat, as he leans his forehead on the hard shoulder underneath it, still struggling to stop his trembling. And Ryder is willingly to allow him to, pulling him tighter to his chest. Jim desperately wants to relax, getting even more upset with the fact he is failing to do so, which only serves to emphasize his suffering. Ryder’s breath a warm tickle beside his ear, and when he speaks, there is a hint of mocking melancholy in his voice.

\- My boy is in pain. What have I done. 

He helps Jim to put his chin on his shoulder and shuffles his hand under his jacket, propping the boy’s neck with his palm to keep his weight on the forearm. With his free hand, the man searches for the slim fingers clutching at the collar of his coat, and unravels them as they seize his palm in return. Ryder leads Jim's hand down, sliding it over his tense abdomen. Intertwining their fingers, he grabs Jim’s deflated cock with their hands combined. Gradually starting to move his wrist, the man gives Jim a peck to the temple.

\- It's my fault. You can hurt me too. – With these words, he leans the boy's face against his open collar, directing him to a place where his neck meets with a naked shoulder.

Unexpected thoughts are lurking inside Jim’s head – Ryder’s touch to his back is warm, but the shiver remain, rattling his body, and to avoid it Jim focuses all his attention on this touch. Suddenly he feels a sharp jab of resentment at the fact he gets to feel this only when he is losing himself with fear and pain. With this thought, Jim moves away from Ryder’s shoulder, regretfully leaving the place he used to hide from the whole world, and, especially from its owner ... But the man doesn’t allow him even that much, bringing him even closer. Jim does not quite understand the emotion lurking behind Ryder's words, and although the sobs that used to make him flinch with violent tremble begin to subside slowly, the tears of grievance, fatigue and suffering are still rolling down from his eyes. Ryder’s words sobers him up a bit, and there comes a flash of a burning anger - almost without hesitation, Jim bites hard at the base of his neck, gnawing the flesh with eyes-closed, like a frightened animal.

When the boy grinds his teeth on him, it comes as a clear act of vengeance, raw and unhinged, but John can’t blame him for that. On the contrary, he is rejoiced at Jim’s courage, so he strokes his neck with a thumb soothingly in a show of approval.

\- Good boy. Do it harder. – Strangely, Ryder speaks the truth - he truly won’t mind it if Jim drew blood with his bite – for the pain that reverberates between them will bind and bring them closer. Ryder’s eyes fall shut for a brief moment as he savors the ache - it brings him a particular pleasure to admit the boy gave it to him himself, and he readily accepts his gift, equally enjoying the wet touch of his mouth, the hot breath, shattering against his skin, but most of all the intimacy, barely concealed by the violent nature of the act. A smile begins to tingle at the corners of his lips at the thought, and he succumbs to it. With a wide, hungry grin, Ryder is cradling the boy in his arms, rocking him as if lulling a tired child to sleep.

Jim does not think about whether Ryder's words contain a note of sarcasm or he speaks seriously - he just freezes in this position for a while. His teeth sink deeper into the warm flesh, a display of protest to his captors indulgence. His previous outburst has knocked him out of his balance, but now it was fading away, like putrid smoke dissolving through a narrow window, leaving behind only ragged breaths and the bitterness in his mouth – a mix of his tears and grievance. It’s only now that he suddenly feels it - as if before that part of the body existed separately from him - what the man is trying to achieve by pleasing him with their hands wound together... And this becomes the reason to harden his bite for a few seconds before the lets go. Pulling back, Jim stares at the glittering imprint in perplexed confusion, watching the white crescents left by his teeth turn pink. He allows the rhythmic sensations, reaching him from afar, finally overtake him – there’s warmth, brought to life by Ryder's actions, and gradually it grows, throwing a shadow on the source of his pain. Ryder gently lowers him onto the hood; he sees no need to hold him as Jim’s body is slowly opening up, almost like if it has resigned, permitting itself to be handled. There is a smile hanging on Ryder’s face, cold and soft at the same time, as he peers at the face below him, framed by a wave of tousled dark curls.

\- Just like that. - He whispers. – Don’t fight it.

Having said this, he grips the cock in his hand, stroking it back and forth, tracing the head with a firm finger. Ryder slips out and immediately thrusts back, his motion an exquisite slide, this time aiming a little deeper. The muscles inside Jim’s body expand around him, letting him in, but he is not going to rush it. Jim hums softly, as if something has woken him at an early hour, eyebrows knitting as Ryder pushes him apart, rocking, filling him from the inside. He vaguely wonders how the man managed to besiege him like that, being both in and outside his body at the same time ... His knees press on Ryder’s hips in an attempt to stop his movement, perfectly aware of the hopelessness of this endeavor, and Ryder's smile grows a little wider.

\- Just let me have you. Can you do it, kid? - Something dark flares within these words, spoken in a dull whisper. The man's hand, formerly supporting Jim's head, now pets his face.

He feels how the boy succumbs to him, step after step - not body only, but also his mind. Knitted eyebrows relax a little, soft lips fall apart, and Ryder imagines covering them with his own to slam inside the boy from both ends, to absorb his painful moans, going deeper. He restrains his desire, reveling in the vulnerability that has opened up to him instead. The dark marks left by his cruel kiss are already blooming into an open throat, and it is such a beautiful sight in contrast to his fair skin. In response to his next thrust, Jim issues a groans, quiet and exhausted. Ryder thrusts in again, just as inexorably and slow, gazing intently at the boy - his breath hitches, but the seizure of suffering that constricted his face before is finally gone. Encouraged by this sight, Ryder delves deeper, steadily pushing into the yielding, soft flesh, mesmerized by how obediently Jim embracing each friction.

\- No need to be that scared. I’ll be careful ... - He runs his hand over the boy's cock again, noting a leak of precum, although Jim has already came not so long ago. Ryder lazily smears it with his fingers, making circular movements, as he watches Jim heave and arch with an unblinking gaze. – And slow ...

As if repeating the movements of the other hand, he runs his thumb over the boy's lip, breaching his mouth and sliding along its smooth and moist inner surface.

\- You'll like it. - These words are spoken in a whistling whisper, triumphantly exposing his teeth.

Jim stubbornly suppresses a wheezing sound, threatening to break through his lips. A hot, sharp surge of pleasure shoots through him, and he pulls his hand out of Ryder’s grasp, as if the touch burns him. He feels something large filling him up in an even rhythm, and this is a terribly strange, unusual feeling. Ryder's rough hand moves to rest on his throat, gently stroking the marks he has left earlier - Jim marked him today as well, and the man still feels the heat in the place where Jim dug his teeth into his shoulder. Probably the boy has no idea how seductive he looks now, while John takes him. Finally, Ryder's fingers leave his neck and he places a hand on his thigh; grabbing Jim under the knee, he throws his leg onto his lower back, pushing in deeper. He still doesn’t enter him completely, but now his movements merge into a single uniform rhythm. Ryder does not stop fondling him, strongly and slowly. Jim's cock fits so well into his hand, hot and throbbing, and the man licks his lips, recalling how its taste.

Jim tries to adjust his breathing to the relentless frictions that fill him, over and over again, getting lost in the pure, intense jolts of pleasure delivered by a skillful hand The palm still holding his thigh feels as hot as the grip on his cock. He frowns now and then, his gaze running over Ryder's face, over his shoulders. Jim feels incredibly helpless, pressing his hands against the broad chest above him, not quite capable to understand what he wants to achieve with this - to push the man away, or, on the contrary - to hide under his form. The disturbed muscles between his buttock are still aching unpleasantly, and suddenly he is aware of how deep the Ryder is moving inside him, the notions seems like something completely insane.

Ryder spits on his fingers again, and applies it to the place where their bodies connect, turning into a single whole. For a few moments he closes his eyes, immersed into his own experience. He has been aroused for an unusually long time, and the boy's tight heat both eases this painful feeling and makes it stronger at the same time. Meanwhile, Jim goes completely quiet - he does not say anything, does not ask for anything, too preoccupied with the contradictory sensations this closeness brings him, so Ryder decides to turn his attention to himself, wishing to find his way not only inside this stunning, delightful warmth, but also into his head. He speaks, leaning low to the boy's face as he continues to target the sensitive lump hidden in the hot bowels of his body.

\- You’re so soft inside. - He strokes the thigh that trembles under his hand soothingly. - Can you feel how hard I am? How easily I enter you. Listen to your feelings.

Leaning lower, he kisses Jim briefly on the corner of his mouth, smiling as the boy belatedly flinches, attempting to dodge.

Jim does not know how he should react to these words - Ryder tells him such intimate things, either trying to calm him down or tease him - so he only averts his head, being unable to get away from the attentive gaze. The man asked him to focus on his feelings, and for some reason he obeys - again. Jim tries to pay more attention to the way his massive cock moves inside him, threatening to knock out another dry sigh out of him with each and every thrust. Ryder’s kiss finds his face the moment Jim barely discerns something, a familiar sensation, ghostly flashing inside him, almost imperceptible so far - this feeling is similar to what he felt when Ryder has touched him there with his fingers. Jim is torn between the pleasure delivered by a strong, gentle hand, and a leisurely, thoughtful pressure that sparks within. He feels incredibly weak, like the measured movements inside draw out all of his remaining strength. He has long ceased paying attention to tears - they keep rolling out of his eyes like there is an endless source somewhere in the depths of his body. Sometimes his sight becomes blurry because of them, saving him from the intimacy, forcefully imposed upon him. Jim still does not want to give in, although his body has already surrendered.

As if noticing his defiance, Ryder leans forward, slightly changing the angle of penetration - now his thrusts become even slower, hitting their target with precision. A large, slippery head slides along the sensitive spot with each movement, and in response to this Jim arches underneath him, closing his eyes, as if trying to detach himself from the sensation. Ryder lets go of his cock for a few moments to throw the boy's other leg on his back, and Jim holds it in place obediently, despite the tears flowing down his cheeks. Like a spring rain, Ryder thinks. He starts fondling him again, never giving his hand a rest.

\- Such a pretty toy to play with - There is an undertone of affection in his voice, laced by a thin veil of mockery, as he leans lower, meeting the boy's lips with his own. He sweeps his tongue over them, as if asking for permission to enter rather than trying to pry them open by force; as he has expected, Jim parts his lips, obeying his will. Ryder runs his tongue over the pliant mouth a few more times, as if trying to memorize the taste, and slips inside with a deliberation that has something to do with awe. He feels Jim opening up underneath him, in more ways than one - perhaps he is too tired to resist, but Ryder can sense a timid sprout of a wounded resignation, breaking through this vulnerability, which, with proper care, can bloom into real trust, so he acts carefully and subtly so as not to break it, even if for the sake of future amusement alone. Something in this boy attracts him, draws him in, and he drowns inside his yielding, hot gut, like a bee fallen in a cup of thick honey, sweet and viscous - truly golden. Hot sparks of pleasure, flashing at the ends of his nerves at every thrust, burn away at his patience, urging to speed up the pace, pin the boy like a moth with one strong, deep movement, digging teeth into his neck to tear him open - but now the slick, delicate walls accept him as perfectly as if this body was made specifically for him, and Ryder is ready to go far beyond the limits of his patience to keep it intact.

Now, with each and every push, Jim gets to feel this weakening and yet pleasant something, sending soft impulses through his body. He closes his eyes, directing his attention to this spot inside. Slow movements gradually introduce him into a strange state - on the one hand, he shudders in waves of hot pleasure under a strong hand; on the other, he reluctantly resigns himself to the fact that Ryder gives him pleasure inside as well. And it's so embarrassing and new. Jim swallows, frowning slightly as he feels himself getting hotter, breathing harder and faster. All this time Ryder peers at him with a blank, studying stare, and it takes a few moments for the meaning of his words to reach him. Confusion, distrust, resentment and a certain shyness are mixed into one single emotion within Jim’s chest, and he sobs softly, discouraged by the man’s insistence on pleasuring him. Ryder runs his hand over Jim’s cock, combining the movement with another perfectly-aimed thrust, eagerly watching the boy's eyes widen in disbelief, and quietly asks him.

\- Do you like it?

\- Yes ... - His voice is so soft it sounds like another sigh, but Jim doesn't care. He thinks giving such an answer is an outright defeat. But also realizes he has lost a long time ago. The understanding that right now he is giving himself over to Ryder, though belatedly, undermines something inside his heart, shattering an illusory core, to which he so stubbornly held on. Ryder's actions are akin to some kind of a restrained, pained impulse. The way he slowly moves, how persistent his kisses are as he reaches out to Jim’s face again and again - all this knocks Jim out of his resolve to resist him, slowly and irrevocably. Jim squeezes the fabric of the man’s shirt in his hands and closes his eyes, not noticing how his calves press harder into the rocking body, and the next moan he issues does not even sound familiar to him.

When Ryder hears this quiet confession, his eyes widen slightly - just for a moment, but that's enough. Without saying anything else, he slightly pulls on Jim’s narrow hips, dragging him lower underneath his body. They boy clings to his shirt in return, pulling him in, and Ryder readily obeys, propping himself on an elbow and lying on top of him. Now his movements flow into one another, like endless, hot waves, molding their bodies into one. He does not relent for a moment, firmly intending to push the boy over the edge and further. With this thought in his mind, he begins to plow harder, swaying over him with his whole body, plunging into the viscous heat to the hilt. He feels the boy squeeze his legs in response to this. Ryder weaves his fingers into his hair, gently passing strands between them, trying to distract himself from the pleasure accumulating in his groin - he has already endured for so long, and every quiet moan escaping from his lips under him only sharpens his pleasure. But before he lets himself succumb to him, he wants to see Jim reach the finish line - again, this time under him.

\- Ah ... ah ... - almost every friction is accompanied by his quiet moans. Ryder's movements are gradually increasing in power, and they burn, exhaust him. It takes a long time for Jim to realize he is pushing into him to the hilt – everything at once ... Literally every push graze at that sensitive point inside, igniting his nerves, knocking out his last breath out of him as a the massive cock slide over it, forcing his toes to curl - his eyelids are shut so tightly he sees hopping circles of light in the darkness before his eyes. This pleasure, previously unclear, comes like thunder after the lightning – once it overtakes him, it does not let go, echoing in long and loud rumblings. And it feels so good, so incredibly good. He had no idea he could feel something like this at all. Jim moans louder, not knowing when it will end, and whether he wants it to end - now he exists only in the present moment, dumbfounded by sensations. He whimpers through gritted teeth, arching to meet the thrusts, lost under the touch of an incredibly gentle, hot hand, under a heated body.

And then he opens his eyes.

He is met by a chilling gaze – like he was waiting for this precisely, Ryder leans towards him, ghosting his lips down Jim’s face, reaching his neck, where he greedily licks the throat, before moving up to cover his mouth as if proving his right of possession.

Jim sobs pitifully, discouraged by such an onslaught, brought upon the three of his most sensitive spots. Now he knows - Ryder can do anything he wants with him, but at the moment this notion has completely changed its meaning. Something starts to rattle inside his body, like a budding earthquake, he feels like something rolls over him, dragging him down - the ninth wave is about to bury him with it’s weight - and judging by the rapid breathing right above him, he will not be alone in this. He manages to get a glimpse of Ryder’s face before the man kisses him again, and Jim would flinch at the view if he still had the strength. The painful, hungry attentiveness with which Ryder observes him, is engraved in his memory with two icy spheres of pale fire, enveloping him with warmth.

There’s a certain premonition, fluttering somewhere inside Jim’s heart, vague and incomprehensible, so that he can’t define it with words, and it is not like it is important now - strong hips are pushing him down, a strong hand is tirelessly pleasing him, a strong tongue prying is his lips apart, and Jim is torn to pieces under this pressure, to such an extent that at some point he succumbs to this hot abyss, biting the man on the lip, swept away by a blinding orgasm.

Ryder can feel Jim coming as his tongue slips into his mouth - and this awareness makes his triumph more fulfilling - nothing would please him more than that fact. Jim only needed his kiss to surrender. The formerly yielding body constricts around him, putting him inside a hot vice, and Ryder stops, caught by this sweet convulsion - Jim's legs press on his back, as if the boy wants him even deeper. Sharp teeth bite on his lower lip, and pain burns through him, falling into his lower abdomen like a heavy stone. The taste of blood urging him to burst into Jim’s mouth again, eagerly and hungry, rushing to taste every corner. Jim's gut squeezes him a few more times before finally relaxing - the boy goes limp under him as his legs slide down, allowing Ryder to move freely, and he takes this opportunity with fervor. Leaning with both hands on the hood, he starts pounding into the boy with increased rhythm and tempo, deeply plunging in. All this time his mouth never leaves the soft lips, opened up for him – and from now on for him only. 

Jim gasps into the bitter kiss, overwhelmed by Ryder fiery intrusion. With each friction, the man pushes him into the hood, never breaking away from him even for a second, and he freezes, no longer moving as he quietly awaits for it to end, holding on to the broad shoulders under his hands. Each friction still passes over the sensitive gland in his gut, but now it is tinged by a shade of a nagging pain. Strong jolts are forcing out loud gasps from his chest, doomed to drown inside an insatiable mouth, until Ryder gives him a particularly powerful thrust, pressing him down with his weight in a display of ultimate possession. Not even a second flies by as he comes inside.

All this time, while he is profusely spilling his load, Ryder does not take his eyes off Jim, the white pleasure surging within him burning these features out in his mind. When he finally lets go, he grabs the boy in his arms and rolls to the side so that now Jim is on his lap. Ryder wraps him in his coat so as not to lose even a drop of the warmth, emanating from the flushed skin. Jim is silent, half-closing his eyes and clinging to him - it seems that he is about to fall asleep, exhausted by everything he has experienced in his hands, but Ryder does not try to wake him. Instead, he pets his hair, soothingly and leisurely, allowing them both to recover before he drives Jim away.

\- Home. - Ryder grins softly, but Jim can barely hear him. Tired to the limit, he neither resist nor mind it when the man puts him in his arms. Somewhere in the backyard of his consciousness there is a vague thought, flickering with rare glimpses of highway, rain, and a distant fear, but he can’t make it out to the end, cannot understand what it means as he falls into the dark that envelopes him, swallowing whole. A gentle touch to his hair accompanies Jim in his sleep.

Ryder holds him for some more time, closing his eyes and playing with the dark strands in his fingers, measuring and making decisions. Finally, he kneels down and pulls off his coat from his shoulders to wrap the boy in. He takes a quick glance at his form, snuggly curled up inside a black cocoon – the boy looks so peaceful, as if nothing has happened, and all the events of the night were only a feverish dream. Ryder quickly picks up the remains of Jim's belt and his boot, erasing all traces of their presence. When he's finished, he picks Jim up and walks out into the thick gloom outside, heading for the car.


End file.
